Wishes Not Possible
by CorrectedByLazyAntics
Summary: What goes through one young man's mind in the late of night while a catle lays in slumber...Please reveiw
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- HP does not belong to me in anyway and I make no money from this

**Disclaimer-** HP does not belong to me in anyway and I make no money from this. So don't sue me, plz¦)

**Special Thanks to **Moretta **for** **BETA PROFING… I love you…**

**(A/N- This is dedicated to my grandpa who passed away last year, affecting me deeply. I felt as if though drowning with such over whelming emotions, so I wrote them down, all those feelings inside me poured into this poem/kind of song. As you read please think of a loved one you've either lost, or would hate to lose. Think of how much it would wound you in your heart, body, and soul. Also I hope to make it clear. I do not wish to make anyone of you emotionally overwhelmed by this. It's just easier to truly understand what**

**the words mean, by imaging it to be real¦)**

**3 Wishes not possible 3 **

It was a cloudless, chilling October night, with the full moon hanging high, illuminating the velvet sky, echoing a soft pale shade of blue , from up within the starry array of the heavens, accompanied with a gust or two of wind blowing by, every now and then. Of course, this was nothing a simple warming charm couldn't cure.

Even in the Astronomy tower, where the temperatures plummeted 40 degrees below the rest of the castle, it wouldn't have been surprising to chance upon it literally snowing up there, being Hogwarts and all. Stranger things have happened. Although the only other place within the school that sustain worst climates, were of course none other then the dungeons.

There sat a boy, gazing up into that flawless night sky and who may that person happen to be? Why, but none other then, Harry Potter, the golden boy of Gryffindor. He sat there gazing into the heavens, with a most heart wrenching of expressions, placed upon his mystifying features.

However none were aware to this distressing fact. Not even his most trusted of friends, who lay slumbering soundly tucked within there beds. This was how he wanted it, he's time to himself, which he truly cherished. So there he sat, indulging in the sense of elated peace, of being able to breathe so freely, away from all the people, the fame, the complications, this was his sanctuary.

Withdrawing an age old, leather bound note book from within the confines of his cloak, he opened it to the next blank page, and commenced to write. Words forming before his eyes, as he wrote diligently, every word overflowing with unmasked emotions…

Wish upon a star,

Is how the saying goes?

So many things to wish,

Alas, mine is but a myth,

One wish is all I ask,

From now until eternity,

A miracle, though not solely for me,

But meant for all, who share my grief,

Upon you my little star,

Grant me this…

Wishing for you to be,

Still here on earth with me,

Years ago,

How you were,

To listen to your tales untold,

Ending in laughter,

Happily ever after,

Please wake up I say,

Though to whom,

To myself, or to you,

Is it to you, or to myself?

For being a wishful fool,

I surely know this is no dream,

Though how desperately I wish it be,

I wish to travel back in time,

To make it seem as though a distant crime,

Not this cruel reality,

I've wished so many things,

Yet the one I wish for most,

Is for you to still be here,

For all of you who've passed,

Come back to those you love,

Who still have yet to pass

And last a tad bit longer, until duly

Ready part,

I wish upon you little star,

A wish not possible, from my heart

From now until eternity

And yet a myth, is all it'll be,

He finally finished, with tears streaming down his face and, unable to withstand the banks any longer, he cried, truly and unabashly cried for the first time since he was but a young child.

**Hope you all liked it, and if you did please be kind enough to Review, or even if you didn't, I don't mind constructive criticism. In fact I would appreciate it; this way I can become a better writer, because there's**

**always room for improvement. **

**Not sure if this well be a one shot, but if some of the individuals who read this please send me a review as to if you would like me to continue this, or not... I have an idea of where I'm going with it but I'm not sure…**

**Thank you for reading owari… **


	2. Can't get a break!

"Malfoy give me back my notebook, now!" growled an annoyed raven, with just an under tone of nervousness as he reached for the leather bond journal with alarming hast.

Emerald orbs reflected more emotions then in that one moment, then they had every shown before.

"What's wrong Potter? I was under the impression Gryffindor's were all about the sharing business. I guess you one of the selfish ones…or perhaps, there's some mammoth secret that you don't want me to read?" the blond feigned a tone of mocking hurt, and seriousness.

He held the tattered notebook in and out of range of the shorter male, with the goal to irritate him until he gave up, negotiates a price, or asked sweetly enough …which didn't seem as though it would be happening any time soon.

Come on Malfoy, I'm ganna be late, and I'm not in the mood to get detention just because of you", Harry tried hard not to sound whiny, but he was going to be beyond late for potions.

Meaning every 10 seconds he was late, would be 5 house points and every 30 seconds a detention. 'No! This just isn't fair… I just can't get one bloody break' he thought, with a sense dark humor.

"Hmm, I think I should just read it now. Since your so determined to get it back and all", the silver eyes shone with a glee of unquenched thirst, wanting nothing more at that moment but to guzzle down the secrets held within the leather bond pages.

Still his frown stood on his face contemplating, and a luminous went off in his head with the perfect scenario. If he played his chess pieces just right, he would have Potter corned.

The boy-who-lived knew that unless some natural disaster happened within the next minuet causing the blond to A) be blown away B) need to fix his hair back to being impeccable, or C) burning the book which he seriously considering acendo-ing himself if the git didn't hand it over. However as quick as that thought had come it was vanquished into a black hole of 'Don't You Ever Think About That Again'. As the notebook was an heirloom that his godfather had passed down to him as a gift that held a promise of always being connected.

It was a book that worked 2 ways, to communicate between two or more people who held a copy of the book. He knew almost every pure blooded family had 5 to start out with, but his godfather had told him most pure bloods didn't use them anymore after the fire calling was discovered. Most families sold their journal or lost them, so now nine centuries later only 17 are left scattered about still in use.


End file.
